Me and Miss Bones
by Olafr
Summary: Harry Potter is rescued by Amelia Bones and spends the summer with her niece, Susan. Harry learns to appreciate Hufflepuff. [Ch.3 new at last!]
1. Chapter One

Me and Miss Bones  
Chapter 1

by Olafr – Harry Potter and associated milieu, characters, and situations are owned by J.K. Rowling and her licensees. This is a work of fan fiction, produced solely for enjoyment. No infringement of rights is intended.

**Rating:** PG-13

**Last updated:** 9 February 2005.

**Author's Notes:** This work was heavily inspired by a work by DrT on Astronomy Tower, Scenes from October – in other words, I read it and got the idea for this story. Many of the plot elements used in this story are referenced in that story, although this is my own take on the basic idea, not a simple recasting of DrT's work. (This work is posted with DrT's permission.)

oOoOoOo

_From the Journal of Harry James Potter:_

30 June 1996 – Sunday

I'm really not sure how to start these things. Hermione gave me this on the train home yesterday and showed me one of her own entries to give me an idea of how to use it. I'm supposed to 'unburden myself', whatever that means. I suppose it means writing out my worries and so on. It feels really stupid, but if nothing else, Hermione usually knows what she's doing. So here goes.

I'm really worried about how this summer is going to go. Whatever idiot organised that little public scolding yesterday at the train station clearly doesn't know the Dursleys – I'm imprisoned again, and I was let out once this morning to wash and use the toilet. No food, yet, and no water other than what I was able to drink while I was in the bathroom this morning. It's late afternoon, and I'm thirsty again, and I'm worried that I won't get anything until tomorrow morning.

oOoOoOo

_From the Journal of Harry James Potter:_

1 July 1996 – Monday

I was right, they only let me drink when I'm in the bathroom in the morning. Uncle Vernon frog-marched me into the bathroom this morning and left me for half an hour. I drank so much I thought I was going to be sick, but I felt so thirsty when I woke this morning that I couldn't help myself. I guess it worked; I'm only now starting to feel thirsty again, so I guess I'll have to keep doing that. No food again today, though.

I was thinking about Sirius today – how could I not, locked up with nothing else to do? (My trunk is in the cupboard; I only have my wand. I'm glad I had it hidden up my sleeve.) The talk I had with Luna keeps running through my head. It's funny, but what she said about there being an afterlife, and her sureness that she would see her mother once again, really affected me. It just feels right, too – I think I believe her. I have to, really; the thought that I wouldn't see Sirius again, ever, is unbearable.

Sirius, my father, my mother – I will see them again. That thought fills me with hope that I'll eventually find happiness, in the next life if not in this one.

I'd better stop here – Uncle Vernon has taken the bulb out of the fitting, and the sun is setting so I'm running out of light.

I'm hungry.

oOoOoOo

_From the Diary of Susan Bones:_

Tuesday, 2nd July

Dear Diary,

Oh, what a day! The news in the Prophet is just awful, with Death Eaters killing another two families yesterday and another article accusing Minister Fudge of corrupt behaviour and collusion with the Death Eaters. Auntie told me this morning at breakfast that for a change the article was correct and factual, and that the information had been leaked after interrogation of Lucius Malfoy under Veritaserum. She smiled just a little as she said that, so I think that she might have had something to do with that. So did Mother, and she scolded Auntie for it, who just ignored Mother's scolding.

Auntie said that there would be a vote of no confidence in Fudge today, with election of a new Minister from the Wizengamot to follow. While everyone would love Professor Dumbledore to take the position, she said he won't. She ranted for a while on the subject; I won't duplicate it all here. She even said that she would do the job herself if she had to, if only to keep it out of the hands of another Death Eater sycophant. Mother just snorted at that. She's said many times that Auntie wanted eventually to be Minister, so I only just kept myself from sniggering in sympathy.

I wonder what Harry thinks of the articles in the Prophet? The Ministry's finally acknowledged the return of Voldemort (thank you, Harry, for encouraging the members of D.A. to get over our fear of that name – but I'm not sure if I can say it yet, even if I can write it), although all last year the Prophet was running a consistent campaign against him and he seemed pretty bitter about it. Come to think of it, Umbridge was an Undersecretary at the Ministry before being placed as Defense teacher, and she gave him detention for insisting that Voldemort was back... Oh, I don't know what to think! I'd like to discuss it with Auntie, but I suspect she won't have much time for me at the moment.

Perhaps I'll write Harry a letter. I wonder why he allowed the Prophet to libel him like it did all last year? Oh, how do I get his address? What if he doesn't want to hear from me?

oOoOoOo

_From the Journal of Harry James Potter:_

3 July 1996 – Wednesday

I think I'm in trouble.

Last night, Uncle Vernon forced me to write out twenty "I'm fine" notes on parchment. I refused at first, but he tied me down, tore off my shirt, and beat me with his belt. He then threatened Hedwig, saying that if she wasn't going to be used to send the notes then she had no reason to live. I gave in, of course, but I fear that by doing so I may have signed my own death warrant – I still haven't been fed, and I'm starting to wonder if I will be.

I'm starting to think that Hermione might have been correct about keeping a journal. Even though my stomach is cramping and my back hurts so much I can't lie on it, I feel better after writing out that stuff yesterday: The Triwizard tournament and all the stuff last year about Umbridge, the Inquisitorial Squads, the fight in the Ministry, and losing Sirius. I've been thinking about the good times, not the bad; it's as if I had put the thoughts into a pensieve for a while – they're still there, but they've lost weight and no longer dominate my thoughts.

Oh, Hermione, will I ever see you again? Or you, Ron? Or Ginny, or Luna, or Neville? I just saw Hedwig return after flying out last night, and then Pig came and went. Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia must be taking the letters they carried, and I'm feeling more and more certain that they mean for me to die undetected. I thought that I would be more scared by the thought than I am, but I find myself looking forward to meeting my parents for the first time. And seeing Sirius again.

The only thing that makes me sad at the thought of going is how it would affect my friends – Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. If the prophecy is correct, my passing would leave Voldemort unstoppable, and I rather imagine that all of them would join me in the afterlife fairly quickly. It is the fact that my passing would sadden them, and that Voldemort would likely torture them before killing them that I truly regret.

I suppose I should feel bad for all the other witches and wizards, and I suppose for the population of the whole world, but somehow I simply do not and I don't know why. That disturbs me a little, for I know I should feel bad about it. Maybe it's because they allowed themselves to be led so easily? Hermione told me once that we get the government we deserve. Perhaps the public deserve Voldemort.

More owls have been coming. I decided to keep count. There were six owls today that tried to get into my window but eventually gave up. I didn't recognise any of them. I wonder who they were from? I wonder if one of them was from Luna. I'd like to talk to her more about the afterlife.

I miss my friends.

oOoOoOo

_From the Journal of Harry James Potter:_

4 July 1996 – Thursday

My parents came to me in a dream last night. I'm writing it down before I forget...

Evening. Another six owls so far today.

I've decided I can't allow myself to pass on. As much as I want to see Sirius and my parents again, for all that my heart yearns to bask in their love, I know that their love is always with me and I have only to think of them to feel it.

I cannot give up. I am a wizard, and I have my wand. A simple Alohomora will let me out of my prison cell and allow me to keep myself alive, and the notifications from Ms Hopkirk will eventually result in a rescue.

I'll do it later, and sneak some food once they've all gone to bed.

I've done it. An Alohomora, then a quick trip down to the kitchen where I gathered together all the edible food I could find – half a meatloaf, a bit of cake, a block of cheese, and some little tomatoes. I drank my fill and filled a jug with water and came back to my room, then used the toilet before sealing my door with a Colloportus – the last thing I want is Vernon strangling me in my sleep or something. Then, to my embarrassment, another two Alohomoras and a Colloportus to retrieve Hedwig and destroy my pre-written notes.

The food was delicious. I think I'd better write a letter to Dumbledore asking to be removed.

The owl from Hopkirk came right on schedule. The usual, threatening exuplsion, please explain, etc, etc. Does that old witch never sleep? Who the hell does she think she is, anyway? Doesn't she know that without me, there is no hope?

Who the hell does Dumbledore think he is, too? Who gave him the right to decide where I should go? That self-righteous bastard, it's entirely his fault I've had the childhood I have, and I've been sitting here thinking that it would be easier simply to die.

Oh, God, what will I do? I don't trust Dumbledore, my relatives are trying to kill me, Voldemort's trying to kill me, Fudge and the Ministry are trying to kill me, and Order doesn't care about me and those who do only care about me as a tool, the wizarding public think I'm insane or selfish or something, an-

I don't know why I bothered to eat anything, I just vomited it all up again. Chalk up an Evanesco for Mafalda and co.

I feel sick.

oOoOoOo

_From the Diary of Susan Bones:_

Friday, 5th July

Dear Diary,

I finally got Harry's address from Hermione Granger. What a rigamarole I had to go through to get it! I had to write Professor McGonagall to get Harry's address, and she refused but gave me Hermione's instead. I then had to write Hermione, then justify myself to her! Harry Potter, you had better be worth all this hassle.

In other news, Diary, Mother told me that Auntie was elected Minister last night. Her first tasks today will have been to appoint her replacement as head of DMLE and make any other department head changes she wants, and then organise the Auror forces to properly address the problem of the Death Eaters. I wonder how she will go about it? Mother said something about 'nailing jelly to a tree', but I have no idea what she meant by that. I can see that it would be difficult to do that, as it would keep slipping away... where does Mother come up with these sayings?

I decided to try a new hairstyle today. I've lengthened my hair and put it into a single heavy plait which reaches to my nipples when I drape it over my shoulder, so I guess it's about mid-back. I was inspired to do so after looking at photos of Oma. Mother looks a bit like her too, and she suggested I should try the plait, claiming I would look just like Oma except for the hair colour. (Oma has flax-coloured hair, Mother said, while I have strawberry blonde. I can't remember; we haven't been to Sweden to see her in years; I can hardly remember her; and the photographs we have are black and white, of course. Maybe we can go this Yule to celebrate with her? I'll have to mention it to Mother.) She did the lengthening charm for me, and taught me to plait it the right way by hand. Afterwards, I couldn't believe how much nicer my hair looked. I guess Hannah was right all along, the twin plaits I had before really weren't right for me...

oOoOoOo

_From the Journal of Harry James Potter:_

5 July, 1996 – Friday

I was woken by Vernon bashing on the door, calling me all the names under the sun and threatening to kill me if I didn't open the door. Not being stupid, I refused. He eventually gave up. No answer from Dumbledore yet. What's taking so long? Hedwig's not back yet.

2pm. Hungry again. Went to get some food. Alohomora, attacked by both Dudley and Aunt Petunia, two Stupefy's, refilled jug and collected bread and cold meat, two Enervates, and another Colloportus. Letter from Hopkirk arrived within minutes, quite stroppy this time, threatening Aurors and immediate arrest if repeated. No owls so far today. Hedwig's still not back yet either. What's going on?

8pm. Something's not right. Dumbledore's still not here; nor is Hedwig. No other owls have come today, either, and the Dursleys have become so aggressive that I've had to use a Wall-of-Iron spell on the doors and windows of my room to keep them from breaking through with hammers and attacking me. As it is I'll have to stupefy them soon to get some more to eat and drink. How can this possibly be considered my home? I can't live here; they're actively trying to kill me. Blood protection or no blood protection, I'll have to get out of here.

The good news is that the Wall-of-Iron kept out Hopkirk's owl, too. I had to smile at that. Hmm, why are Hopkirk's owls getting through but not any others?

I'll give it until midnight, then I'll escape and call the Knight Bus and go to the Leaky Cauldron and figure out what to do from there. At least Tom will feed me, even if I'll have to visit Gringotts first.

Aw, shit. Dumbledore has my key. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

My toe hurts. I kicked the wall. I feel better, though, though I'd better make sure Hermione never sees this or she'll scrub out my mouth with soap, or worse, a Scourgify. Ginny wouldn't mind; I think she'd encourage me. I wonder what Luna would think?

oOoOoOo

The office of the Minister of Magic was large, plush, and tastelessly decorated in burgundy velvet, but the office was the furthest thing from the mind of the newest Minister, Amelia Bones. It was eight o'clock and she was yawning, fighting off exhaustion after a taxing day. With a flourish, she signed a last document and leaned back.

'Enough,' she said to herself. 'Time to go home.' At that moment there was an urgent knock on the door followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt bursting into her office.

'Shack!' she exclaimed, falling back into her long-practiced role of head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She had elevated Shacklebolt into that position as one of her first acts as Minister, so their relationship was similar overall.

'Minister,' said Shacklebolt with a deep nod of his head and an unrepentant smile.

'What can I do for you?' she said with a return smile.

'This is a for-your-information. I've just had to countermand a request from the Improper Magic office for a squad of aurors to arrest Harry Potter.'

Bones stood up straight, her eyebrows reaching for her hairline. '_Arrest_?'

'Yes. He has been sent three owls from that office since midnight last night.'

Dropping into a frown, Bones searched her memory. Then it came to her. 'Harry Potter was brought before a _full_ Wizengamot last year for a mere Improper Use of Magic charge, and for defending himself against dementors, no less! Shacklebolt! Assemble a squad of aurors to accompany me to Potter's home. I'm going to find out what's going on. You will command the squad. Return here with the squad and a portkey programmed for Potter's address in five minutes.'

Shacklebolt snapped to attention. 'Yes, Ma'am!' he snapped, then turned and left.

In the time it took to organise the squad and the portkey, Minister Bones wrote out a directive suspending the right of the Improper Use of Magic Office to issue penalties or notices of any kind, pending an immediate investigation of the office. She also dictated an order to the Aurory to investigate the operations of the IUMO with respect to bias and corruption with respect to issue of notices, with particular respect to their treatment of Harry Potter.

She was just blotting her signature on the second document when Shacklebolt returned with a four-man squad and an old wooden tennis racket. Shacklebolt handed Bones three letters, which she quickly read before folding them and tucking them into her robes. She nodded, grabbed the rim of the tennis racket, and waited. A moment later, she felt the portkey grab hold of her magical core and hook her up. When her vision cleared, the six of them stood in front of an unassuming semi-detached home in a row of dozens of similar homes. She looked to Shacklebolt.

'This is it?' she asked in surprise.

'This is it,' he replied with assurance. 'Shall I go first, Minister...?'

'Please do.'

'Dawlish, Tonks, come with me. Jones, Evans, you've got the Minister.'

Pressing the doorbell, Shacklebolt waited for the door to be opened. After almost a minute, it was flung inwards to reveal a short, fat man with a sweating, purple face. At the sight of the crimson robes the Aurors wore, his eyes bulged and his complexion darkened further.

'I don't want _your_ kind around here! What the hell do you want!' he spat.

'We are here to see Harry Potter,' said Shacklebolt evenly. Dursley's eyes narrowed to slits.

'Nobody of that name is living here. At least, not for much longer!' He went to slam the door closed, but Shacklebolt deftly barred the door open and petrified Dursley where he stood before leading the way inside.

Inside, Minister Bones looked around the lounge while Tonks and Dawlish went upstairs. There was shouting and two _Stupefy_ spells before all was quiet.

'Minister Bones, if you will?' called Shacklebolt from the top of the stairs. She went upstairs and was shocked to see that behind the expected dull orange glow of the Wall-of-Iron, there was a set of four locks on the door, all usable only from the outside. Hammers and a cricket bat lay on the floor outside the room. Taking all this in, Amelia wondered at the scenarios. Why would there be locks on the _outside_ of the door? She gestured at the glowing wall, the command implicit.

With a muttered word, Shacklebolt cast a spell at the wall. Nothing happened, however, except a muffled 'Ow!' from inside the room. Slightly wide-eyed, he gestured to Tonks. 'Tonks, talk him out of there.'

'Aye aye, sir.' Tonks, who had soft, blue hair today that actually went quite nicely with the uniform, stepped up to the door. 'Harry? It's me, Tonks,' she said loudly. 'I'm here with a team to investigate what's going on. We've got the Dursleys under control; would you come out please?'

There was a pause, and Harry's voice replied. 'What do you always trip over in the entrance hall?'

Tonks screwed up her brow for a moment in thought, then grinned. 'That bloody troll's foot umbrella stand!'

The glow disappeared, and Harry's voice came clearly now. 'You can open the door, Tonks. Nobody else.'

With a glance at Shacklebolt, who nodded, Tonks stepped forward and tried to open the door. It was locked, and stayed that way despite an _Alohomora_.

'Harry? I can't get it open.'

The door opened part-way, and she pushed it open the rest of the way. Harry stood in the middle of his room, wand at the ready. He looked terribly emaciated, and the room smelled like ripe teenager. His eyes flicked over her, untrusting.

'Do the nose thing,' he said.

Tonks dutifully changed her nose to a pig's snout, at which point Harry finally relaxed and almost collapsed. 'Tonks, thank God. The Dursleys have been trying to kill me for some reason. They've been acting really oddly, much more aggressive than usual. And Hedwig's gone missing; Dumbledore hasn't answered my note. All the owls have stopped for some reason, except for Hopkirk's, I don't know what's going on.'

Amelia stepped forward, Shacklebolt following her, and her eyes widened as she took in Harry's condition. 'Good evening, Mr Potter,' she said. 'May we come in?'

Now nervous, Harry stepped back and nodded. He sat on the small, thin cot that seemed to be his bed. Amelia seated herself in the hard wooden chair that sat before his tiny desk, noting that Shack and Dawlish had gone off to do something, leaving Tonks to guard. Harry gulped nervously.

oOoOoOo

Harry sat on his cot, gulping nervously. He remembered Amelia Bones from his trial last year; someone had told him she was head of the DMLE. Two things gave him some measure of comfort – three, really: They had not already siezed his wand; Tonks was present and not actively moving to protect him; and Bones had been strict but scrupulously fair at his trial. He watched as Bones sat in his chair, facing him, while Tonks stood in the doorway. A quick smile from her made him feel a little safer. Still, her presence made him decidedly nervous. He decided to settle the question of why immediately.

'So, what have I done that brings the head of Magical Law Enforcement here?' he asked nervously. Despite everything, would she want to snap his wand? Beneath his relaxed appearance, he sat on a hair trigger.

'It's Minister, actually,' said Bones with a sort of half-smile. Minister! That meant Fudge had been thrown out.

'Congratulations, then,' said Harry. 'I don't suppose Fudge has been charged with corruption, has he? And what about Umbridge?'

Minister Bones frowned at him for a long moment, eventually saying, 'Thank you for you congratulations, Mr Potter. Perhaps I can answer your questions at another time. In the mean time, I am here to investigate some rather suspicious behaviour by the Improper Use of Magic Office, and coincidentally why you have apparently felt it necessary to use a number of spells. Seeing your condition, however, I think we can defer any questions.'

Harry flinched away from Bones, and a fear rose within him. 'You're... not going to snap my wand, are you?' He hated himself for the small voice he used to ask the question. The indignant expression on the Minister's face was reassuring, however.

'I should think not!' she exclaimed, then paused before continuing, 'Not until we complete our investigation into the IUMO, in any event. Since you raise it, however, what justification can you offer for you use of magic, Mr Potter? I cannot believe you did it simply on a whim; what sequence of events led to your decision?'

Glancing at his journal, which was an old cast-off exercise book that he had found in the desk along with some pens, Harry debated with himself as to whether it might not be simplest simply to give it to her. Faced with the thought of a repeat of last year's Wizengamot hearing, he took a breath and pointed to it as it sat on the desk. 'I've been keeping a journal. It's all in there.' He looked her in the eyes. 'I trust you to keep the contents private, Minister.'

Bones fixed Harry's gaze for a time, before nodding and picking up the journal. She flicked through it quickly, turning the pages once every ten seconds or so. As she read, he saw her expression tighten but there was no other outward reaction. He waited nervously to see what would happen.

oOoOoOo

Amelia Bones flash-read the journal, a skill she had often needed as head of DMLE, hardly able to believe what she was reading. It was all she could do to control her expression. When she finished, she closed her eyes and thought for a moment. It was clear that Harry could not stay here, and given his comments about Dumbledore it was clear he should not be involved right now anyway. She made her decision.

'It's obvious you can't stay here, Harry,' she said, ignoring his surprise at her use of his first name. 'And I can't let you stay in the Leaky Cauldron; if Headmaster Dumbledore was keeping you hidden then it doesn't make sense to throw it all away by putting you somewhere public where you could be snatched by Death Eaters, does it?'

She heard him mutter something under his breath about Dumbledore, but decided to ignore it. She continued, 'If you'll come with me, I think I have a solution.'

For a long, long moment, Harry looked into her eyes. She felt impaled on his intense gaze, his green eyes piercing her soul, weighing it. Eventually he blinked and nodded. 'My trunk is in the cupboard under the stairs.'

'Evans,' said Shacklebolt, and the auror, who was standing nearest the staircase, disappeared downstairs. Amelia stood, handing the journal to Harry, and led the way downstairs. There she stopped to watch Evans wrestling Harry's standard school trunk out of the cupboard. Her nose told her Harry had come to stand next to her just as Evans finished extracting the trunk and stood upright. He smelled of unwashed underpants.

After levitating the trunk and disillusioning it, Evans commented, 'Did you get locked in there at some point, kid?' He turned to comment to his partner, Jones, 'There's some writing on the wall in there. "H. Potter's room."' Amelia turned just in time to see Harry's eyes flash dangerously.

oOoOoOo

Harry heard the half-joking tone of the Auror Evans and clamped down tight on his suddenly boiling resentment. Exerting every ounce of control he had, he said, 'That was where I lived until my eleventh birthday.'

It gave him a kind of macabre satisfaction to see all six adults flinch, Minister Bones and Tonks less so than the others. He clutched his journal to himself as they all swung their gazes upon him, making him feel like a spotlight had picked him out on an empty stage. He saw Bones nod to herself, then she said, 'It's time to leave. Who's got the portkey?'

Shacklebolt produced a length of rope, a worn piece of orange nylon, and moments later the two of them were in what Harry assumed was the Minister's office – it reeked of Fudge, opulent and in bad taste. His head still whirling from the transport, Minister Bones said, 'Take a seat on that couch, Harry. I'm going to get a healer in here to check you out before we go home.'

Feeling his head clear, Harry allowed himself to look up. 'Home?'

'Well, my sister-in-law's home, actually. I believe you might know her daughter, Susan.'

Harry perked up as an image popped into his head of the last time he had seen Susan Bones at the D.A. He smiled. 'Hufflepuff?' he confirmed, and smiled at the Minister's nod.

'She was very complementary about your teaching ability, actually. She said she did very well in her Defense OWL examination, and is hoping for a good result.'

oOoOoOo

_From the Journal of Harry James Potter:_

5 July, 1996 – Friday (continued)

11pm. I'm writing this in my room at the Bones' farm in Kent. I can't believe that my plan actually worked, although not in the way I'd expected. Amelia Bones is the new Minister and for some reason decided to investigate in person. She hasn't said one thing about making any statements or press conferences or anything like that – either she's truly honest, or she's just a lot craftier than Fudge ever was. Only time will tell, but for now I've decided she can be trusted.

Amelia – she practically ordered me to call her that when the situation wasn't formal – arrived, stunned the Dursleys, read this journal up to the previous entry (in about five minutes flat – she makes Hermione look like a slow reader), and spirited me away, leaving the aurors (Tonks and Shacklebolt were part of the team) to clean up the mess. We ended up in her office where she had me checked out by a nurse before using yet another portkey to bring me here. She introduced me to her sister-in-law Brigitta (wow! I'll write more about her tomorrow) but I didn't see Susan at all. They showed me to my room, told me breakfast would be at 7, and here I am. I'm should go to sleep but I'm too wound up to do so at the moment.

My room, which I was informed is mine for as long as I want it, is really nice. It's got a sloped ceiling from being right against the roof, but it has two nice windows, one with a desk beneath it and the other by the head of the bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. There's a nice rug on the floor, and the bed looks really soft, like a Hogwarts bed without the drapes and tester. There's a bookcase next to the bed, and Brigitta (Susan's mother) magically unpacked for me so everything's put away. The bathroom is right next door.

I'm actually looking forward to tomorrow. For now, I've got a potion I'm supposed to take to start undoing the starvation the Dursleys put me through. I wonder what Susan will think of me suddenly showing up? God, I hope she's not like Lavender. She seemed pretty sensible in DA so here's hoping.

oOoOoOo

Amelia and Brigitta Bones sat in the kitchen, candles flickering against the stygian dark of the cloudy night, cups of tea (Amelia) and coffee (Brigitta) steaming on the table between them. Harry had been settled in his room with a nutrient potion with a mild sleeping potion mixed in, and they had gone back downstairs to talk.

'I'm sorry for bringing Harry back without consulting you, Gitte,' said Amelia quietly. 'I only went to his home by chance, really. Old Auror instincts kicking in I suppose. I'm glad I did, though. You should have seen his room, the way he was treated.'

Brigitta sipped her dark coffee thoughtfully. 'I think I can guess,' she said, her blonde eyebrows pulling into a slight frown. 'He looks half starved.'

Amelia nodded, her eyes going to the plate of butter biscuits in the middle of the table. 'He is. He let me read the journal he's been keeping since he got back from Hogwarts. The last thing he ate before about midnight last night was on the Hogwarts Express.' Brigitta's eyes widened.

'That's almost a week!'

'Five days. He waited five days with no food and no water except when he was let into the bathroom once a day before deciding to use his wand.'

'Why so long? Surely...' She let her voice trail off at Amelia's shaking head.

'I don't know, but Harry has been treated abominably by everyone except a few friends.' She swallowed heavily and wiped one eye. 'He'd almost decided to let himself die of starvation. What he wrote...' Her expression hardened, anger instead of sadness. 'What he wrote... I tell you, Gitte, there's going to be a few heads roll over this. I remember, the only time I'd seen him before was a year ago, almost exactly. You remember that emergency trial I had to attend as part of the Wizengamot?'

Brigitta leaned forward, curiousity overriding concern for the boy-child that they had just put to bed. 'Yes, of course I do. You wouldn't tell me what it was about.'

'I wasn't allowed to. I'm still not allowed to, really, except that as Minister I can enact executive decrees to overturn that kind of nonsense. Fudge called a full Wizengamot trial for a case of underage magic.'

'Harry?'

'Harry. He was charged for performing the_ Patronus_ to defend himself and his Muggle cousin from two dementors. What's more, Fudge was both prosecutor and chief inquisitor and attempted to railroad a conviction without allowing Harry to call any witnesses, and was calling for a sentence in Azkaban.' Amelia looked almost ill at the memory. 'I almost resigned from both the Wizengamot and the Ministry that day.'

Brigitta's eyes were ablaze. 'Unbelievable! You stayed to stop him from replacing you with his own lackey, I assume.' Amelia nodded.

'Yes.'

Silence stretched as the two sipped their drinks, the warm, comfortable silence of old friends. Eventually Brigitta put down her mostly-empty cup and smiled at her companion.

'Derek used to be just like you, Em,' she said softly. 'It's one of the reasons I fell in love with him, you know, even though he was older.'

'I know, you've told me before,' replied Amelia, her voice now also soft. She put down her empty mug with a soft thump. 'Gitte, I've been thinking...'

'Mmm?'

'I wonder, if Harry likes it here...?'

Brigitta's eyes widened in surprise, then crinkled into a smile. 'Let's just let him live here for a while before we think about that. I think that right now, he needs to heal.'

Amelia nodded, and reached out to grasp Brigitta's hand. 'I know it's been a while, Gitte, but...?' she asked, almost whispering.

'I'd love to. Come on.'


	2. Chapter Two

Me and Miss Bones  
Chapter 2

by Olafr - Harry Potter and associated milieu, characters, and situations are owned by J.K. Rowling and her licensees. This is a work of fan fiction, produced solely for enjoyment. No infringement of rights is intended.

**Rating:** PG-13

**Last updated:** 10 February 2005

**Author's Notes:** This work was heavily inspired by a work by DrT on Astronomy Tower, Scenes from October – in other words, I read it and got the idea for this story. Many of the plot elements used in this story are referenced in that story, although this is my own take on the basic idea, not a simple recasting of DrT's work.

In this chapter, Harry and Susan run into each other in a rather unexpected way and begin to get to know each other.

oOoOoOo

Harry woke the next morning feeling refreshed and relaxed. He had slept dreamlessly for the first time since the start of the summer. Interestingly, he hadn't had a problem with his scar – visions or implanted dreams – since the night of the battle at the Ministry. Idly he wondered why, even as he wriggled beneath the deliciously light but warm covers. It felt like sleeping beneath a cloud.

At length Harry yielded to an increasingly urgent need and sat up. He looked around. He didn't remember falling asleep, and the ever-burn candle that had lit the room earlier was still lit. Licking his fingers, he quickly doused it by briefly squeezing the lit wick (they couldn't be blown out) and stood up, stretching luxuriously. He then picked up the empty potion phial which was lying on the floor and put it on the bedside table before stepping out of his room, heading for the bathroom.

The bathroom door flung itself open before he could grasp the knob and a blonde-haired somebody collided with him, sending them both to the floor. There was a brief feminine squeal of surprise, then Harry's breath whooshed out of him as whomever-it-was' shoulder drove into his diaphraghm. After a long, awkward moment the weight was gone, and Harry fought to get his breathing working again. Finally taking a juddering breath, he heard a voice say, 'Harry! Are you alright?'

Looking up, squinting to focus with his glasses dislodged and almost dangling off the end of his nose, Harry eventually realised that it was Susan Bones kneeling above him wearing what looked like light summer pyjamas. She had changed her hair, though, and he had taken a long moment to recognise her. Then, too, her PJ's highlighted a figure that was normally concealed beneath the uniform robes of Hogwarts – she was solid-limbed and her breasts were high and large. His eyes went wide as he felt her looking at him, catching him staring at her well-developed breasts, and he desperately jerked his eyes to her face. Her light blue eyes, as clear as the morning sky, were crinkled in amusement.

'Hello, Susan,' he said shyly. He felt his ears and cheeks go hot with embarrassment. 'I'm...' He couldn't quite bring himself to say he was fine.

'Fine?' she finished for him with a gamine smile. The light thudding of someone climbing the steps in a hurry made her look over her shoulder. A pause, then, 'Mother?'

'Is everything all right? I thought I heard someone fall.' With his glasses repositioned properly, Harry saw her look over her daughter, struck by both their similarities and differences. They were similarly built, but Susan's hair was more reddish than her mother's, which was a solidly wheaten colour, almost yellow, in fact. Her lips were fuller and her jaw slightly wider than Brigitta, and comparing the two Harry could see that her lightly tanned skin was paler and very slightly freckled. But overall the two were very similar.

'I'm fine,' said Harry with a smile. 'I ran into Susan-'

'Harry,' interrupted Susan. 'I charged out of the bathroom and knocked you to the floor then fell on top of you. Are you sure you're not hurt?'

Harry shrugged. 'Just the wind knocked out of me. I'm fine.' He looked up at Brigitta. 'Thank you,' he added with a smile.

'Did you sleep well, Harry?' Brigitta asked. He nodded.

'Yes, I slept wonderfully, thank you.' He saw Susan's eyes drop to his pyjamas in surprise, and after a lightning self-inspection which verified that nothing untoward was showing, Harry struggled to his feet. Susan rose with him, smoothly, supporting him with a hand around his upper arm. He smiled his thanks to her, nodded, and said, 'Thanks, Susan. Please excuse me,' before scurrying into the bathroom.

Susan turned to her mother. 'What's going on?' she asked quietly over the hollow splashing sound of Harry urinating into the toilet on the other side of the door. 'How long is Harry here for?' She could not suppress the excitement in her voice. Her mother smiled at her.

'Amelia brought him last night, after you'd gone up to bed,' she said, equally quietly. 'I don't know the full story but he was locked up by his relatives without food and with water only once per day. He lasted five days and almost decided to allow himself to die of starvation before something changed his mind and he used magic to defend himself against his family. I don't know why but Amelia went to investigate, saw his conditions, and brought him back here. He'll be staying here for the rest of the summer.'

The toilet flushed, and Susan practically jumped up and down on the spot, clapping her hands with glee. 'Oh, wonderful!' Brigitta smiled at her daughter.

'Oh, I see,' she said archly, her eyes joyful. 'And how long has this been going on?'

Susan stomped her foot. 'Mother!' Brigitta laughed at Susan's antics, just smiling at her as she waited for Harry to open the door. A moment later, he did.

'Feeling better, Harry?' Brigitta asked with a smile, her eyes dancing. Harry blushed, but he smiled back rather tentatively.

'Yes, thank you.'

'Well, why don't you two get dressed and come down for breakfast? It'll be on the table in five minutes.'

oOoOoOo

Dressed for the day, Harry slipped out of his room and down the stairs, heading for the kitchen which he had been in last night. In the daytime, the room was flooded with light, the reflection of the sunlight off a white-painted window seat. The pale yellow of the kitchen with light blue accents, with colourful dishes and items scattered here and there made the kitchen a bright, happy, welcoming place.

'Ah, Harry, take a seat,' said Brigitta from her place on the side of the table that faced the kitchen. Amelia, dressed in severe business robes, was sipping from a hefty mug at the head of the table, and Susan, now wearing a blouse and skirt, turned to smile at him and pulled out the chair next to her.

'Sit here, Harry.'

Nervous and uncertain despite the welcoming smiles from all three females, Harry sat gingerly on the wooden chair. On the table in front of him there was a load of bread with a number of spreads and butter, and a large bowl of fruit. He glanced to one side and saw that Susan had a bowl of something pale. It was mushy but not porridge; there were what looked like pieces of dried fruit in it, and other things he couldn't identify.

'So, Harry,' said Brigitta, jerking his attention back across the table, 'what would you like for breakfast?' She smiled at him winningly, waiting for his reply.

Harry was struck dumb, paralysed by the situation – he wanted to make a good impression, didn't want to impose – and by the choice. He had no idea what to ask for – there was no sign of the frypans that he would expect to see in the Weasley kitchen, so he didn't want to ask for his normal breakfast, and yet eating untoasted bread for breakfast seemed far too odd. He had fixed his gaze on the fruit and was just about to reach for it, a negative phrase on his lips, when Susan interrupted. 'Why don't you try some museli, Harry? I guess you haven't had it before but I'm sure you'll like it.'

'Museli?' repeated Harry dumbly, tasting the shape of the unfamiliar word in his mouth. Susan nodded, smiling winningly.

'Sure! You have it with honey.' With that she reached forward to what Harry now recognised as a honeypot and used the dipper to drizzle a couple of teaspoons of honey over the top of the stiff paste in her bowl.

'Er,' stammered Harry, 'yes, please, that would be nice. Thank you,' he finished lamely, and acutely aware of the three pairs of eyes upon him, he blushed heavily. He was pleased, though, to see Brigitta nodding happily as she stood and retrieved a bowl from a large cupboard nearby. A glance at the contents showed Harry it was a cool cupboard, the wizarding equivalent of a refrigerator. Susan's mother withdrew a large, ceramic bowl. Taking a smaller bowl just like Susan's she put two huge spoonfuls inside before returning the main bowl to its home, then placed the smaller bowl before Harry by reaching casually over the table. With a 'thank you' and a glance at Susan, who had taken her spoon and was now scooping some of the sludgy mess out of her bowl, he reached for the honey to duplicate Susan's actions.

Taking a mouthful, Harry was surprised at the taste. Chewing thoughtfully, he realised that what at first seemed bland was actually really nice, milky and nutty with sharp accents from the dried fruit and the sweetness of the honey.

'This is delicious,' he said once he had swallowed and licked his lips. 'It's so different. It's called museli?'

'It's actually Swiss museli, not Swedish museli,' replied Susan with a teasing smile for her mother. Harry frowned in puzzlement.

'Swiss? Swedish?'

'My family is from Sweden,' said Brigitta. 'I married an Englishman and moved here.'

The rest of breakfast was filled with pleasant conversation as Harry learned about the various Bones family members. As the rather happy gathering about the table was winding up, though, Amelia Bones stood.

'Harry, I have to go to the Ministry soon, but I hope you don't mind if I ask Brigitta to take you shopping. I'll be sending an escort for you at about ten thirty. I hope that's okay with you, Gitte?'

'Of course,' said Brigitta.

'What's happening?' asked Susan.

'Just a moment, dear,' replied her mother as she got up and walked with Amelia out the back door into the kitchen yard. Through the window, Harry saw Brigitta kiss Amelia on the cheek, a brief holding of hands, and a smile that transformed the usually stern visage of the new Minister before she apparated away.

'Isn't that just lovely?' said Susan pensively, briefly placing her hand on Harry's forearm. He didn't answer her, his attention siezed by the lingering, warm feeling of his forearm where Susan had so briefly touched him. It felt odd, almost tingly, and something about it made his insides clench nervously. He tried to put it out of his mind by taking an early peach from the bowl.

Brigitta returned to the kitchen and sat down opposite the two teens. 'Harry, I suppose I should apologise for Amelia, she's so assertive sometimes that she can appear rude.'

Harry looked up in utter confusion. 'I'm very sorry, but I don't understand?' he said politely.

'I couldn't help but notice when I was unpacking... you don't seem to have any clothes that fit you?' she said softly. 'And, except for your school robes and some pullovers you can't wear now anyway because it's summer and too warm, nothing that's actually in good condition?'

Blushing furiously, Harry looked down in utter shame. He began to feel a little resentful of the question. What would they think? Would they assume he was as poor as a church mouse and would have to be supported? He couldn't bear the thought that a family as nice as the Bones would feel they had to pay for the clothes of a perfect stranger.

'I've got plenty of money!' he blurted, still staring at his lap in misery.

A warm arm laid itself across his shoulders, accompanied by the scent of apple blossom. Susan, he noticed out of the corner of his eye. A hurrying noise, and then Brigitta was kneeling next to him, one hand gently pressing on his cheek to turn his head to face her. 'I'm not trying to embarrass you, Harry. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Why don't you tell me what you're feeling, and why?'

And so, with a halting start and many hesitations, the story came out about how the Dursleys only ever gave him Dudley's old clothes, how Dudley was approximately the size of a small whale, how he had inherited a vault from his parents but he had only ever bought school things out of that, and hadn't even been able to do that recently as he hadn't been allowed to visit his vault since third year, or Diagon Alley for that matter, and in fact right now he didn't even have his vault key and didn't know where it was as Mrs Weasley had never returned it after last summer.

When he finally wound down, Brigitta said, 'So, can I assume that you'd like to get yourself some new clothes if you had the chance? Or do you like your clothes as they are now?'

'No!' ejaculated Harry. 'I hate them!' Unspoken was his hate for the Dursleys.

'Well then, we'll take you shopping. Get you a whole new wardrobe, from top to bottom, and then we'll burn all this old stuff. How does that sound?'

Harry looked up for the first time in over ten minutes, staring into Brigitta's face in surprise and hope. 'May I? May I really?'

'Yes, Harry, not only _may_ you, but you _will_. So, Susan, why don't you show Harry the house and outside for a little while, and I'll clean up in here while we wait for the Aurors that Amelia's going to send.' She flicked a glance at Harry's scar, adding, 'After all, we can't have Harry mobbed or abducted, can we?'

Puzzled by the wicked smile on her face and the twinkling of her eyes, Harry returned Brigitta's smile. 'Thank you very much.'

The warm arm across his shoulders, which Harry had almost forgotten, turned into a gentle thump. 'Come on Harry, I'll show you around,' said Susan. Harry looked to her, she was still smiling, she had hardly stopped smiling whenever he had seen her today. To his surprise she took his hand and pulled him to his feet. Letting go once he was standing on his own, she led the way outside.

oOoOoOo

Harry and Susan stood at the top of a gentle slope leading down to a small lake or large pond that looked as though it was about a hundred metres wide. At one point it abutted an old-looking wood, and a small stream trickled into the lake from within the wood. About halfway out to the centre, a wooden platform about three metres square bobbed on the water. Susan gave Harry a chance to take all this in before leading him down to the only other sign of development near the lake, a decked area which protruded out over the lake a short way from which a short jetty protruded. A rowboat was tied up to the jetty, two oars lying untidily across the thwarts.

The sun was warm but not hot, the air still. The sun blazed down from its location about halfway above the horizon, meaning it was about mid-morning by the sun. At a guess, he would say it was about half past nine by the clock. All around him, there was the scent of growing things, most especially the scent of the loam and the grass that they walked over to reach the lake. The yellow scent of wildflowers tickled his nose, and every so often he'd get a scent of apple blossoms from Susan.

'This is our lake,' she said at last. Her words somehow dropped into the limpid air, making it feel as though they were in a separate, private world. She led him onto the deck out to the edge suspended over the water, sat down, slipped off the sandals she wore, and dangled her feet in the dark green water. Following her, Harry sat down near her and tucked his knees up under his chin. He looked out across the lake pensively, soaking in the warmth of the sun; the silence broken by birds, a splash as a fish briefly surfaced, and the sound of Susan's feet parting the water gently and her quiet breathing; the lovely dank water smell overlaid by wet wood, the loamy smell from before, the scent of the forest, and Susan's apple blossom hair.

'Do you like it?' she asked, all of a sudden. Her voice was very close, and Harry jerked to see that she was sitting right next to him. He swallowed but did not move away. His imagination told him he could feel the warmth of her near his side.

'Yes,' he replied at length. 'It's lovely.' He looked around at the decking, which appeared as though it was rather worn in places. 'It looks like it gets used quite a bit. Is it all yours?'

'Oh, yes, we have a hundred acres here. I haven't shown you the farm manager's house and the farmhands' quarters. We grow potions ingredients, mostly. It's all handled by the manager; I don't really know the details. Mother tells me I'll have to learn, though, once I finish my NEWTs.' She snorted, then added, 'I come down here every day to swim.' Another pause, then, 'I usually swim mid-afternoon, when the lake's at its warmest. Would you like to come too?'

Harry hesitated, then started to answer her but stopped himself. Blushing at his awkwardness, he turned his head to see that she was watching him with interest. 'I'd like to, but I'm afraid I can't swim, not very well, anyway. I never really learned.'

'I thought you knew how to swim, I mean, the Second Task...?'

With a shrug, Harry replied, 'Gillyweed.' His thoughts returned to the Triwizard Tournament and the happiness that had quietly come to him fled before memories of Cedric, and Cho, and the Inquisitors, and-

His thoughts were interrupted by Susan's warm hand on his arm. 'Harry? Are you okay?' He looked up again to see her looking at him, a concerned expression on her face. He felt warm.

'I'm fine,' he said automatically, then smiled weakly. 'Really.'

oOoOoOo

_Excerpts from the Desk Log of Minister Amelia Bones:_

Saturday, July 6, 1996

8:49am: Minister (M) arrives.

8:52am: Secretarial: Summons records of: Harry James Potter, born 31 July 1980.

9:07am: Secretarial:

Memorandum to: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head – DMLE

Kingsley,

Please ensure that the Dursleys are processed with all dispatch and back in place by tomorrow evening if no actual charges are warranted. Use of Veritaserum is authorised with the usual requirements for witnesses and transcription.

I noticed something when they were apprehended, and Harry says they've been acting oddly over the past day or two. Please ensure that all checks for the Imperius and other influencing methods are carried out fully.

(signed)

9:09am: Secreterial:

Memorandum to: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head – DMLE

Kingsley,

Please investigate whether there's any kind of measure in place influencing owls at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Anecdotal evidence exists that a normal stream of six owls per day suddenly stopped, and Harry Potter's owl Hedwig – a Snowy – has been missing since dispatched to Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts.

(signed)

9:20am: Secretarial: Temporary change of guardian notice entered for Harry James Potter, born 31 July, 1980.

9:21am: Secretarial: Official change of residence notice entered for Harry James Potter, born 31 July 1980.

10:33am: Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore (AD) arrives.

M: Ah, Albus, please come in. What can I do for you?

AD: Thank you for seeing me on a Saturday, Minister. I must say that one would never find Cornelius here on a Saturday. (laughs)

M: I am not Cornelius, Albus. I suppose you have a point. But I have quite a bit to learn, having just started, as you can well imagine. I have to do it sometime.

AD: Oh, yes, I remember when I was made Headmaster, it took me weeks to find out what was going on.

M: Quite. Well, as you can imagine, I have quite a bit to do, Albus, so to repeat myself, what can I do for you?

AD: Yes, quite, I'm sorry. Hogwarts received notification of a change of address for Harry Potter this morning. I believe his new home is... yours?

M: That's right.

AD: You must understand, Amelia, how important it is that Harry resides in the home of his blood relatives. It is vital to his well-being and continuing protection.

M: I see. Am I to assume, then, that you would like him returned to his previous residence?

AD: Yes, please, Amelia. I could take him with me immediately if it would be convenient for you.

M: Over my dead body.

AD: Excuse me?

M: An official investigation will commence on Monday into the question of Harry's guardianship, Headmaster Dumbledore. It was by chance that I accompanied an Auror team to his home last night, only to find him a prisoner in his own home, under actual immediate threat of severe injury or death from his soi-distant guardians, and in so bad a condition from starvation and dehydration that were he any worse I would have taken him to St. Mungo's instead of simply rescuing him from durance vile and taking his relatives into custody. I can assure you, Headmaster, that we will also be investigating the cirucmstances of how it was that he came into the care of those people.

AD: I was aware that he disliked his aunt and uncle, but I assure you I had no idea that-

M: That is immaterial, and if true, utterly reprehensible. I do not wish to further discuss the subject, Albus, until the results of the investigation come back, as you yourself might be investigated in this matter and I don't want to prejudice the investigation. For the mean time, Harry will be safe at my family home, guarded as it is by a detachment of Aurors.

AD: I really do wonder whether that will be sufficient to protect him from Voldemort and the Death Eaters, Amelia. (sigh) The manner of his mother's death conferred strong protection onto him, for as long as he resides in the home of his mother's blood. He must stay there for a certain amount of time every year to, um, recharge the protection, both for himself and for his family.

M: Well, that may be, Albus, but I assure you that had he not been rescued he would be either dead, severely ill or injured, or have run away in a blaze of magic by now. At least at my home he is guarded.

AD: Perhaps I might suggest that Harry be permitted to take an active part in his own defense, Minister.

M: Do you mean an exemption from the restriction against underage magic?

AD: Yes, in addition to active training. He is, after all, Voldemort's primary target, and actively sought by those who would curry his favour. If he cannot be hidden, then he must be trained against the possibility that he might be found.

M: Perhaps. I will take it under advisement, Albus. Well, if there was nothing else?

AD: Since we are here, perhaps I might take a few minutes to discuss some other matters regarding Hogwarts in advance of the usual post-term meeting late next week.

M: Please go ahead.

oOoOoOo

_From the Diary of Susan Bones:_

Saturday, 6th July

Dear Diary,

Oh, what a day! What an amazing, wonderful, and terrible day! So much has happened, I just can't describe it all.

First of all, Harry's here! I literally stumbled over him on the way out of the bathroom this morning. Poor guy looks like death warmed over. Mother told me he'd been imprisoned by his aunt and uncle, whom he used to live with.

Used to! Harry lives here now! It's like a dream come true – how can I not take advantage of it to get to know him better and, who knows, maybe something more?

Even today, though, I found out things about him that I had never suspected. I'd always thought he was really poor, but he's actually enormously wealthy but has never been allowed to access his money. He was dressed in rags by his despicable relatives. He can't stand the thought that he might need charity. He doesn't know how to swim, yet he still dove into the lake at school for the second task. And, as I found out today, he's never been shopping. Mother and I had a great time, selecting clothes that actually make him look like he should.

All he needs now is a little more muscle on him. Mother said something about him recovering fairly quickly with the potions she was feeding him, so I'm not to worried, and once he fills out again I think he'll look much better.

I caught something in his eyes a few times today, though. He looks as though the weight of the world is on his shoulders. He certainly never looked like that at DA – and I would have noticed, I think – so something's happened since then. I think it might even have been after OWL exams, since the few times I saw him after exams he looked like he was really dragging.

I can't wait to find out more about him. I'm going to teach him to swim, to help him recover his muscle tone. Mother recommended it to me; she said the potion restores muscle but doesn't tone it much. Maybe I can get him to open up to me.

Oh, I can't wait.

oOoOoOo

_From the Journal of Harry James Potter:_

6 July 1996 – Saturday

I can hardly believe it, but it seems I've finally escaped the Dursleys for good.

Today was wonderful. Susan seems glad to see me, and she's nice. She didn't laugh at me or pity me for the stuff I had to tell them about the Dursleys, which is a good sign.

Brigitta and Susan took me shopping today, for clothes. I've never been so exhausted in my life, and do they make shop floors out of something especially hard, because my feet hurt. It was worth it, though. I drew out a thousand after Brigitta showed me a spell that would summon my Gringotts key from wherever it had got to (and confided in me that the wards around the house would prevent detection of underage magic). So I did the charm ("Apercæg", with a right inward diminishing spiral ending in a hook) and four keys appeared. One of them I recognised, and Brigitta's lips got awfully thin when I told her I hadn't seen the others before at all. We bought all kinds of clothes and when we got back they held a ceremonial burning of my old clothes, Dudley's hand-me-downs.

It felt good, like I was symbolically divorcing the Dursleys.

Amelia was back when we returned from shopping. After we'd finished dessert she said she had some things to tell me and did I want to discuss them privately or would it be okay to do it at the kitchen table over a tea? Brigitta immediately got up and put on the kettle, so with that hint I said I had nothing to hide and the four of us sat at the kitchen table and Amelia told me what she'd been up to that day.

Basically, making Dumbledore's life hell. It feels odd to write his name like that, but I'm still not at all happy with him, and after Amelia finished telling me what she'd found out, I was even less happy with him. She told me that I now officially lived at the farm, and Brigitta was my official – if temporary – guardian, and it would stay that way until she rescinded it herself. Boy, it's nice having the Minister on your side for once.

But the main thing she said, which didn't really surprise me, was that it was looking like the stuff at Privet Drive was the work of Umbridge and Fudge, mainly. Traces of a compulsion potion had been found in the Dursleys, and the sudden lack of owls (except for Hopkirk's) was the work of a ward that had been ordered by Umbridge and put up by a team of people whose job it is to set up and maintain wards. Amelia noted that she had even filed the paperwork properly, and it was that compulsion that would no doubt lead to arrests early in the coming week.

Okay, no surprises there, but what had her really steamed was that Dumbledore hadn't known about the actions being taken against me, and because he didn't believe it would happen, hadn't bothered to check. Thinking about it, I'm really angry about that too. Who the hell does he think he is? He throws me at the Dursleys, and doesn't bother to check on me? Or do I assume he knew about how I was treated and did nothing about it? Either way, however good his intentions, it would seem that he is careless and therefore not to be trusted. Bastard.

Calm thoughts, cool thoughts.

But if I can't depend on Dumbledore, I'll have to depend on myself, and I guess my friends. Hermione, Luna, Ginny, Ron, Neville, and maybe even Susan and I suppose the rest of the DA. The thing is, what the hell do I do? Where do I start? How do I approach this?

I realised earlier that I hadn't thought of Sirius at all today once we got started. Just too busy, I guess, but does that mean I'm going to forget him? I can't bear that thought. I have to try and keep him alive, even if it's only in my memories.

Huh, I just realised I can write to Luna now and ask her some more about that stuff we talked about before the end of term. Or I would if I had Hedwig. Where are you, girl? I'm starting to worry about you.


	3. Chapter Three

_Me and Miss Bones, Chapter 3 Page _

**Me and Miss Bones  
Chapter 3**

by Olafr – Harry Potter and associated milieu, characters, and situations are owned by J.K. Rowling and her licensees. This is a work of fan fiction, produced solely for enjoyment. No infringement of rights is intended.

**Rating:** PG-13

**Last updated:** 28 November 2005

**Author's Notes:** The opening section doesn't really fit in this part, but it's here rather than in Chapter 2 so that readers don't have to go back and read an edited part 2. When I revise this story for posting on Astronomy Tower, I'll move it into Chapter 2 then.

oOoOoOo

Albus Dumbledore sat in front of the fire in the sitting room that joined his living quarters to his office, his face pensive, staring into the flames. He was pondering the extraordinary meeting he had earlier that day with the new Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones.

The arrival of the routine change of address notification to Minerva McGonagall's office had set off a furore. He would not have believed that a Minister, particularly one as upright and principled as Amelia Bones, would have acted so quickly and cynically to secure a political advantage. He had gone to the Minister's office will all haste, determined to correct matters in a storm of indignation or pitying disappointment, whatever was required to return Harry to the safe haven of Privet Drive.

And then it had all gone horribly wrong. Amelia had allowed him to make a fool of himself and then informed him that not only had she removed Harry due to an active threat to his very life by the Dursleys, and not only were the Dursleys to be investigated in detail, but he himself would also be investigated.

For negligence. It was that which hit Albus the hardest. For all the precautions he had taken, and the measures he had taken to ensure the boy's privacy, he had allowed the boy to be sent into a situation where, had Amelia not intervened, the boy could have actually died, or failing that had his health ruined, possibly permanently. He had blithely assumed that Harry was going to a place where, if not actually loved, he would at least be safe. He had stationed guards outside the house, but had assumed that the threat would be external.

And perhaps it had been, for he truly did not believe that the Dursleys would normally act in the way they apparently had. The reports given by Nymphadora and Kingsley were horrifying – his neglect in not ensuring that Harry's condition was checked in actuality could have been disastrous.

Staring at the shifting, flickering orange-yellow flames, Albus Dumbledore pondered with sinking heart how he could possibly have let things get so far out of control.

OooOoOo

_7 July, 1996_

_Dear Hermione,_

_I don't know if you've written to me (I've had problems with owls not being able to get to me so far this summer) but there have been some strange things happening lately. The Dursleys have been behaving really oddly (more so than usual). I don't want to go into details in a letter, but I'm now staying at a different location._

_Did you hear about Madam Bones being appointed the new Minister? I think she's a good choice; when I saw her at my trial last year she seemed strict but very fair. I can only hope that she's what we (the wizarding world) need._

_Have you thought about what you're going to study over the Summer break? We don't have assigned homework, of course. But I have Voldemort after me. So I was thinking of looking into two areas: offensive and defensive magic (you should have seen Dumbledore fighting Voldemort at the Ministry!); and Dementors. I don't like it that the Patronus will only chase them away. If they're going to be used against us, we have to be able to destroy them._

_But the Dementors do work for us, I hear you argue; they guard Azkaban for us and serve in the Ministry, don't they? Well, I wonder if the Dementors have ever really been on our side. Ever since my third year they have tried to attack me whenever they see me. Remember the train? If they are used as guards, they must be controllable, yet they don't seem to have shown any control around me at all. As far as I'm concerned, Dementor sees Harry Potter; Dementor attacks. Lupin had to drive the one on the train away with a Patronus! They attacked me while playing Quidditch, moving inside school grounds where they had been specifically forbidden, and again, later when they attacked both Sirius and myself down by the lake. Perhaps it's not a control problem, but they are actively attacking me on sight. Perhaps they have really been working for Voldemort all along._

_Apart from that shocking bit of conspiracy theory, not much has been happening with me. I was taken shopping yesterday and I finally managed to spend some gold on new clothes. We burned my old clothes last night and it felt really good. Like I was divorcing the Dursleys. I hope I never have to go back there again._

_I hope you're having a lovely summer._

_Your friend,_

_Harry._

OooOoOo

_Dear Luna,_

_I don't know if you've tried to write me so far this Summer but I've been having trouble getting owls. I hope the problem is solved now. If you want to reply to this letter, ask Hedwig to wait and she'll carry your letter back to me._

_How has your trip been so far – any early sightings of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack? If not, then don't worry, Summer's just barely begun. I'm sure you'll find one. And did you get all your stuff back at the end of term? I never quite got around to asking. I certainly hope you did._

_I enjoyed our talk by the noticeboard, and I hope to have a chance to get to know you more, soon._

_Your friend (I hope),_

_Harry._

OooOoOo

Harry sighed and wiped the remaining ink from end of his quill with the rag he kept for the purpose, making sure it was quite clean before replacing it together with his capped inkwell into his trunk. He had used his last two sheets of parchment to write to the people who were most important to him. He regretted that there wasn't a third sheet, as he wanted very much to write to Ron and Ginny, but he could get some from Diagon Alley soon enough, or perhaps ask someone to buy some on his behalf, and he could write then. Besides, they would probably know already through their father's contacts in the Ministry, or through the Order.

Sighing again, Harry rested his chin in the palm of one hand and looked out the window. He had letters, but no owl. _Where are you, Hedwig? I hope you're all right._

It was Sunday, a beautiful Sunday morning. The idyllic weather of yesterday did not seem set to continue; heavy grey clouds were marching to cover the sky. The summer sun still shone here, but in the distance he could see rain falling beneath the cloud. It was still early, perhaps seven thirty, but the sun had woken him over two hours before. The house had been absolutely quiet, the only sound that of the sparrows as they chattered with each other outside his open window. He had not wanted to disturb the house, possibly even waking the other occupants, by moving around. He was not even really conscious of making that decision; it was the force of long summer-time habit to keep out of sight and not disturb the others. So he had written the letters, since he had nothing better to do.

Now that he was done, he wasn't sure what to do next. The house was still utterly silent, even though it was now after the time they had had breakfast yesterday. Perhaps the Bones slept in on a Sunday? Looking out at the gathering clouds, and down at the sunny yard by the house, he wanted to go outside and walk around a bit before it rained. Yet he hesitated, uncertain.

OooOoOo

"Susan, would you go and get Harry, please? It's time for breakfast." Susan Bones, who was just bouncing into the kitchen, turned about with a "Sure, Mum!". Thuds sounded as she ran upstairs.

_Boy, what a sleepyhead,_ thought Susan as she reached the top of the stairs. _Sleep in on a day like this, will he? I'll get him up for sure!_ She ended the thought with a giggle, as she paused outside his door. Readying herself, she flung the door open and caroled, "Wakey, wakey!"

Parchment flew into the air and the chair fell on its back to the floor, but Harry was nowhere to be seen. The bed was immaculately made, she saw, and his trunk was open but seemingly fully packed except for his clothes. The window was open, with the fresh outside air now blowing through the room now that the door was open to form a cross draft. She watched as the parchment settled to the floor, and finally spotted Harry. He was hunkered in the footwell of the desk, curled up into a ball. He was not looking at her, his arms were protecting his face and head... was he _cowering_?

"Harry!" she cried, her heart going out to him. She hurried over to the desk and knelt down, reaching out to give him a hug. "Are you all right?" At her touch, though, he flinched away and trembled. She laid her hand on one of his. "Harry?" she asked, gently. "It's me, Susan." She gripped his hand lightly. She felt him relax a little and smiled as she saw him look up to see her kneeling in front of him.

"Susan?" he gasped, and she felt him relax fully. What had happened to him that he would react like this?

"Yes. Are you all right?"

He nodded, and she backed away a little so he could come out. "Thought it was a dream," she heard him murmur. She wanted so much to hug him and make his hurts go away, but he would be skittish right now.

"Do you want breakfast?" she asked him instead, giving him room.

"Yes, please." He stood and offered her his hand. She took it with a smile and allowed him to help her to her feet, even though it was unnecessary. Part of being a woman, as her mother would say.

"After breakfast, how about a little swim? It's supposed to rain all afternoon, so this morning is our only chance."

"That would be lovely." She watched as Harry bent over and picked up the parchment that had gone flying, replacing the sheets on his desk and picking up the chair.

"Well, come on, then. Mother said that breakfast is getting cold."

Harry stared at her briefly, then looked to his closet. "I'll get dressed and come downstairs."

"Okay!"

OooOoOo

Harry stepped into the kitchen to find it warmly and brightly lit from the reflection of sunlight off the floor. Breakfast noises, the rasp of a knife on toast, the clink as something was set down on china, washed over him along with the sleepy warmth of the room and the welcoming smiles of the three occupants. Amelia sat as she had yesterday at the head of the table, a large mug steaming on the table. Amelia herself was visible only as a dark head of hair; the rest of her was hidden by the open newspaper she held in front of herself. Brigitte look up as he stepped into the room.

"Good morning, Harry," she caroled. "Slept in, did you? I'm glad; it's good to see that you're feeling more comfortable."

Embarrassed, Harry could not stop himself from blushing at her mistaken assumption. He kept his mouth shut, though, not wanting to disillusion her and have her think badly of him. Susan, though, looked up from her museli at her mother's statement. "Oh, Harry wasn't in bed when I went upstairs," she said blithely. "It looked like he'd been up for hours."

"Really? Why ever didn't you come down for breakfast, then? Even if you were studying or writing letters, it's always nicer to do it with friendly company and a cup of tea or coffee, don't you think, Em?"

"Mmm," hummed Amelia from behind her paper. Harry blushed further, and tried not to feel as though he was being hemmed in. They were really nice people, he reminded himself. They weren't the Dursleys. The weren't waiting for him to trip over some hidden rule, so there would be some thin justification for them to pounce. However for all his efforts, he could not stop himself from concentrating on the floor. Anything to escape the direct gaze of the well-meaning Brigitte.

"Well, sit yourself down and help yourself, Harry," Brigitte went on. "I don't think there's anything to feel bad about. You must be hungry, surely?"

He nodded, and sat down next to Susan as he had done yesterday morning. As he did so, two owls flew in through an open window. One was a Ministry owl that went to Amelia, forcing her to put down her newspaper, while the other was white and headed for...

"Hedwig!" cried Harry gladly as his beloved snowy owl came in for a landing on his outstretched forearm. "How are you, girl? Are you all right?" He could not stop himself from stroking the soft feathers of her head almost urgently as the words spilled out of his mouth. Hedwig _hoo_'d enthusiastically in response, pushing her head into his fingers as she did when she was particularly glad to see him. Seeing that there was no letter with her, he looked up to Amelia, wondering if she perhaps had information about his owl's absence.

Amelia looked up from the stiff parchment she had received and caught his eye. "Your suspicions were right, Harry," she said with a faint smile that reminded him of Professor McGonnagal. "Hedwig had been intercepted and was being held, presumably to keep you incommunicado while a standard owl repulsion ward kept most other birds away. Only the owls from the Improper Use of Magic Office bore the proper coded counter-charm. It would appear that we will be investigating that office _most_ thoroughly this week. Amongst others," she finished darkly.

After breakfast, Harry was sent upstairs to don his swimmers. He had been given little choice in the style of swimwear that were bought for him. He had wanted some of the comfortable-looking trunks, like oversized boxers, but that idea had been pooh-poohed by the ladies and he had been informed that he would be wearing swimwear that looked to his eyes like a somewhat undersized, if heavily constructed, pair of briefs that clung to him like a second skin. His only choice had been between a brilliant crimson red and an equally bright royal blue. He had chosen red, and so it was that he pulled the stretchy things from his underwear drawer with some trepidation. Now, in the privacy of his bedroom, he was calm enough to see that they were lined, so he stripped down to nothing and slipped them on. They seemed more comfortable than they had in the shop, and now that he was no longer quite as panicked he saw that they did not outline his every feature as he had feared they would. In fact, they felt quite sleek, and hid the details of his anatomy quite well, really.

He sent off Hedwig with the letters for Hermione and Luna and slipped on a casual summer robe and a pair of sandals before heading back down the stairs. Susan was waiting for him with two large, fluffy towels.

At the dock by the pond, Susan walked out to the end and put their towels down on the worn, silver-grey weathered wood and slipped off her robe. She was wearing a two-piece swimming suit in a pale, baby blue fabric. The top was two triangles of fabric joined by a string-thin strap of the same colour, held up by more strings that appeared to be tied behind her neck. Harry could see the swell of her bare breasts peeking out from either side of the not over-wide scraps of cloth. The lower half appeared to neatly cover her pubes, clinging to her like he suddenly wished he could, with more string circling her hips. Large bows on each side of her hips taunted him and made him wonder, wildly, what would happen if he reached forward and tugget on one of those fascinating bows.

A reaction in his groin made Harry realise that he shouldn't be thinking about Susan like that, and he tore his eyes away from her groin to her face, only to see her looking him in the eyes, smiling.

_Oh, God, she caught me staring at her. What must she think of me?_ Harry thought, even as Susan smiled impishly at him then turned around. The back of the bikini was hardly wider than the front, and it stretched delightfully over her mostly-exposed buttocks as she bent over to undo her sandals. Harry felt himself stiffening for real, and he scrambled to make his naescent erection go away. _Snape in a bikini, Snape in a bikini, Dumbledore in neck-to-knees_.

Susan straightened again and turned once more to see Harry staring at her, absolutely dumbfounded. The sight amused her greatly, but she knew better than to openly laugh at him. She remembered well the advice of her mother, when speaking with her about the delightful differences between men and women, had warned her that men, although often very strong, had egos as brittle as spun glass, and she could deeply hurt someone without even noticing.

Still, she couldn't let Harry's behaviour go without comment. She struck a pose she had seen in one of Mother's books, one hand on her hip and the other tucked behind her head, her hips cocked. "So, Harry, do you like what you see?" _Come on, Harry, tell me you like me._

Harry blushed bright red, but he somehow kept himself together. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. But you're very nice." He swallowed, but didn't dare look away, somehow sensing that to do so would be to capitulate. Instead he concentrated on Susan's face.

"Harry, if I didn't want you to look, I would have worn a different suit."

"You _want_ me to look?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"Well, yes," she said, not quite as positively as she wanted to. She dropped the pose. "Sort of. I really don't mind if you look. But what I really want, Harry, is to get to know you better. You seem like a really nice guy from what I saw of you in the D.A., but there's almost no chance to get to know people from other houses at school. I'd like to be friends with you, at least."

Harry smiled. "I'd like that," he said.

"So," she said, "I've shown you mine. You show me yours!"

He gaped at her, then realised what she wanted. He took off his sandals then shucked off the light, knee-length robe. He saw her eyes take in his hollow chest, his spindly arms and legs. Thinking of Snape and Dumbledore had done the trick, and he felt confident that he was not displaying himself to her. However, he was a little ashamed of his body. He was hardly a thick-limbed, muscular, confident example of manhood like Wayne Simpson of Susan's own house Hufflepuff. He looked away.

"I'm sorry, I'm not exactly nice to look at like you are," he said.

Susan rejoiced at his words even as she acknowledged their truth. "That's okay, Harry, you've been starved. The potions Mum's giving you will help sort that out.

"Actually, those potions mean you need to exercise pretty hard to make sure they build the right kind of tissue and so the muscles that do grow get nicely toned instead of being flabby. If you work hard and stay on the potions, you should be looking pretty nice in a couple of weeks."

"Work? At what? Do you need help around the farm?"

Susan shook her head. "No, no. We'll go swimming twice a day – once before breakfast, at seven; once late in the afternoon, an hour or so each time. It'd be pretty boring if you did it all by yourself, but I'll swim with you and help make it fun. In no time you'll be back to normal."

"Normal isn't exactly anything to write home about, either," muttered Harry, but he forced himself to catch her eye and smile. "That sounds great, Susan," he said. "Thanks ever so much for helping me out like this. I really like to think we can become friends."

Susan couldn't help herself; she stepped forward and gathered up Harry in a hug. "Thanks, Harry. I'd like that. I'm happy to help."

It was very different to being hugged by Hermione. Susan's hug was firm but gentle, for all that he could sense the power of her arms. Her breasts pressed against his bare chest, and he could feel another erection coming on. He canted his hips so that it wouldn't press against her.

"Well, then," said Susan as she ended the hug, "let's get you into the water. You can't swim for an hour if you don't know how. Come on."

oOoOoOo

By half past ten, Harry was exhausted, his arms and legs feeling like overcooked spaghetti, and he lay limply next to Susan on the dock staring up at the gathering thunderheads. They were a deep purple gray, and for all that the sun was still shining on the two of them, he could sense that soon they would be in the clouds' shadow. Water dripped slowly off him as he lay under the sun's gentle benison.

Right at the moment, he didn't think he'd ever use his arms or legs again. Susan had soon taught him to float, and then to 'tread water', as she had called it, and finally she had introduced him to a fast over-arm stroke she called 'freestyle'. Then she had insisted he propel himself only by kicking – four times across the pond.

"Congratulations, Harry, you now know how to swim," said Susan, breaking the silence that had built between them abruptly. She hardly seemed tired. Harry mused that it seemed quite unfair, but then replied to himself that if he got fit again he would be able to last longer too.

"Oh, good," he said, his tiredness rendering him incapable of anything more eloquent.

"Of course, you've only learned one stroke. I'll show you side stroke and backstroke tomorrow, and then butterfly. If you're very good, I'll show you the breast-stroke."

"Fantastic, I can't wait," he said automatically. His tired-but-not-tired brain insisted on continuing to process what she had said. "Err... Susan?"

"Yes?" she asked sweetly.

"Breast-stroke... it's..." Suddenly Harry's intelligence intervened and stopped him from asking what he had been about to. Instead, he said, "How do you do that?"

She giggled. "I'll show you tomorrow."

Her giggle was contagious, and Harry felt himself smiling. "I look forward to it."

OooOoOo

_From the Journal of Harry James Potter:_

8 July 1996 – Monday

Today was my second day of learning to swim. I wonder if I'll ever be good at it, though Susan says I'm learning quickly, and as I get used to the exercise and the potions do their work, it will become much easier for me. I'm sure she's right, but for now it feels like I'll never be strong again.

Susan's being very friendly to me. She's very easy to get along with, and I'm finding that I'm enjoying her company very much. We go swimming together in the morning and late afternoon. We go for walks after lunch, exploring different parts of the farm, and in the late mornings and afternoons we study. Studying is forbidden in the evenings; we sit with her mother and Amelia and play games, or talk. Brigitte told me tonight that it's not unusual for them all to sit reading, or discussing the day's news.

I wonder how long Hedwig will be delivering Luna's letter? I got a reply from Hermione today. She seems to be fully recovered from her injuries now, and she was talking about spending a few weeks in Provence with her parents in the first part of August. She invited me to come, though Amelia says that she'd prefer it if I stayed close to home so I can be properly guarded against Death Eater attacks. She then went on to offer to set up a trip to Diagon Alley on Wednesday so I can look around Flourish and Blotts and some other places and see what I can find in the way of advanced texts.

OooOoOo

_From the Diary of Susan Bones:_

Wednesday, 10th July

Dear Diary,

Harry's swimming continues to get better, and as for Harry himself – oh, boy! It's not yet been a week, and already he's filling out nicely. I didn't know restorative potions would work so quickly. He's still a bit skinny, but he's already able to swim slowly for a full half hour and no longer gets tired on our little walks.

But the main news – we went shopping today! Aunty Amelia offered to set up an expedition for Harry, and he accepted, and we floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron at about eleven. Harry wanted to stock up on parchment, quills, and ink, and after an early-ish lunch we spent a few hours looking through all the second hand bookstores and gadget shops there were. Harry bought all kinds of old books, and I helped him of course, looking for stuff that might be good to teach the D.A. next year. I have no idea what one of the things he bought was, though. It was some kind of runed bowl, fairly deep, that Harry called a pensieve. I must look it up and see what it's for – for some reason Harry didn't answer when I asked about it, instead going quiet in that way he does.

Harry himself seems to be warming up to me, but he seems distracted at times. He seems to be all wrapped up in Luna Lovegood, who's a Ravenclaw in the year behind us. She seems nice enough from what I remember from the DA, if somewhat spacey. Harry told me he'd sent Hedwig off with a letter for her and was hoping to see his owl back soon. She must be a long way away if a good owl like Hedwig takes four days to make a delivery!

In the mean time, I'll continue Operation Get Harry Comfortable With Me. Who knows – it might even bear fruit.

Here's hoping!

OooOoOo

It was Thursday evening, and Harry was positive that his life, at long last, was going very well indeed. Luna had replied with a long letter which Hedwig had brought to him early that morning before breakfast. He was finally starting to feel fit again, and Brigitte had pronounced that the restorative potions were "off to a good start". He had enjoyed a wonderful day with Susan, whom he had begun to tell some of the stories of his life now that he had convinced himself that she wasn't another Lavender or Parvati, but could instead be trusted not to keep confidences. He had made a lot of progress today in his study, finding that one of the old books he had bought – _Locks and Keys_ – was a positive treasure trove of useful information, lucidly written and easily understood.

And finally, Amelia had asked him and the others to sit with her in the Sitting Room, saying that she had good news.

The sitting room was one of the house's formal rooms. The furniture in the room was elegant and antique, with rich materials upholstering brightly-polished wood, some items decorated with gilt and inlays of various kinds. Glass-fronted cabinets displayed the treasures of the family – three Orders of Merlin, various medals, what looked like a pure silver coffee service of great beauty and truly impressive heft and craftsmanship, numerous decorative plates and bowls, and a number of other, less understandable items.

It was in this impressive room that Amelia bid the others sit and make themselves comfortable while she busied herself at the bar. Harry seated himself in a beautifully spare but comfortable-looking two-seater couch, and was pleased when Susan sat beside him. Brigitte sat in a dark-wood armchair upholstered in a shiny, yellow-gold fabric that had flowers embroidered upon it at intervals in red and silver.

Amelia returned with four small stemmed glasses filled with a dark honey-coloured liquid. She served one to each person, keeping the last for herself, and sat in a spindly, armless balloon-backed chair facing the other three. She raised her glass and took a sip, holding the thick liquid in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. Relaxing back into the chair's comfortable embrace, she released a sigh of pleasure.

Uncertain what to do, Harry waited until Susan caught his eye and raised her glass to him. Following a ritual he remembered the Dursleys doing, he clinked his glass against hers then took a small sip of his drink.

The liquid was thick, and aromatic of wood, spices, and a peculiarly complex honey. In his mouth, the flavour exploded upon his toungue, making him think of liquid dried apricots and honey and cloves. He swallowed, and the drink traced a warm, glowing trail down his throat into his stomach, where it seemed to set itself alight in a gentle fire, filling him with a peculiarly warm satisfaction and pleasure. He found himself smiling at Susan, whose eyes sparkled as she smiled back at him.

A silence built, and Harry knew for certain that he would not be the one to break it. Following the others, he took another tiny sip, helplessly smiling at the flavour and warmth of the drink. He seemed to feel an additional warmth from Susan, but he told himself he must be imagining things.

Amelia suddenly spoke, softly into the padded silence of the room. "Today was a good day," she said with a small, restrained smile.

"What happened?" asked Brigitte after a pause.

"Firstly, the investigation into the Improper Use of Magic Office was completed today. Two people will be charged with minor offences and were issued warnings, and I have ordered the preparation of a discussion document regarding unfair discrimination against the muggle-born in the application of the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.

"Secondly, I ordered the circumstances of the trial that Harry had to face in '93 reviewed. Dolores Umbridge was dismissed with cause and will face the Wizengamot charged with the misuse of dementors on Monday. Cornelius Fudge was also charged on summons with conspiracy to cause greivous harm, and will face the Wizengamot on Tuesday.

"Thirdly, the Aurors investigating the Dursleys reported that they appeared to be under the influence of a Svengalens potion. They have been returned to their home with memories of having been on a short holiday."

"What's a Svengalens potion, Auntie?" put in Susan.

"It allows the drinker to be mesmerised by the person who administers the potion, honey," said Brigitte. "It's not as absolute as the Imperio curse, so it's not actually banned, but it's considered very dark."

"That's right," said Amelia. "It's actually a class one controlled potion, like Veritaserum. Use not authorised in writing by..." She trailed off and blushed a little. "Well, the details don't matter. Anyway, we don't know at the moment who caused your relatives to act in the way they did this summer, Harry, but the Aurors carrying out that investigation will now be attempting to determine who fed them the potion and how it was done."

"Thank you," said Harry, feeling it was necessary.

Amelia nodded and continued. "Finally," she said, "it's been determined that Headmaster Dumbledore caused the provisions of your parents' will to be bypassed when he placed you with the Dursleys." The happiness of a successful day flowed away from her face. "Unfortunately, that only begins his offences against you, Harry, but the question is whether we can make any charges stick. For example, he cannot actually be charged with a criminal offence from placing you with the Dursleys. Enforcement of wills is a civil matter, and when the Department of Magical Catastrophes acknowledged his letter advising them of your placement with the Dursleys, the Ministry essentially approved the placement. Unfortunately the person who did so is now retired and, in any event, is only guilty of failing to verify Albus' assertions regarding the Potters' will. That is, if he actually made any. That man has a way of phrasing things..." She trailed off, frowning in agitation.

Harry shrank into his seat as a horrid thought occurred to him. "Does that mean I might have to return to the Dursleys?" he asked shakily.

"No!" cried Brigitte as she moved quickly out of her chair to kneel in front of Harry, taking him into a soft hug. "No, you won't have to go back to those horrid people. I'll make sure of it!"

The warmth of Brigitte's embrace aborted Harry's gathering funk and made him look up, once again hopeful. "Really?" Brigitte's firm nod as she looked him in the eyes brought a smile to his face. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

"Well, that _is_ all good news," said Susan brightly. She pulled Harry into a hug of her own, her arm about his shoulders. After a moment she let him go and turned to face him, saying, "I guess you'll be staying with us for a while. I'm glad." She looked him in the eye and smiled softly, her smile broadening a little as she saw him blush a little and smile shyly. She handed Harry his glass and the two drank again, a wordless mini-toast.

"Excuse me for asking," said Harry after a moment, "but what other investigations are you carrying out into Ms. Umbridge's actions last year?"

Amelia looked at Harry steadily for a moment before saying, "A number of the Educational Decrees implemented last year are the source of several investigations as they directly contradict a number of laws, so actions carried out under those Decrees were illegal. For example, it is illegal to read or dispose of somebody's mail without their express consent." Seeing Harry's gathering frown, she added, "All the Educational Decrees from last year have already been rescinded, of course."

Harry frowned mightily, deciding whether to speak out. He decided he should do so; he felt as though he owed it to Minister Bones in a funny way. "Er... I was wondering whether some of the things Ms. Umbridge did last year were illegal. Do you mind if I ask you about them?"

Amelia and Brigitte shared a quick look before Amelia nodded. "Of course, Harry, go ahead."

"Well, on one occasion she put an entire vial of Veritaserum into a cup of tea and tried to force me to drink it. You said earlier that it requires Ministry permission to..." He broke off at Amelia's furious expression.

"Yes, she will most certainly have to be investigated for that. Would you be willing to be interviewed regarding her actions last year? I assume that the other points you wished to raise were as serious?"

"I'm happy to be interviewed. As for the rest, she threatened to cast the cruciatus on me when Snape said he had no more Veritaserum, but Hermione talked her out of it. Um, the main other thing... have you heard of a kind of quill that writes in your own blood and cuts what you're writing into the back of your hand as you write with it?"

"Is it small and black, with a very sharp point?"

"Yes."

"That's a Blood Signing Quill. They're used for signing magical contracts and the like." The look of curiousity on her face faded, to be replaced with a growing look of dawning horror. "You're underage, you can't have ever had to use...?"

Harry nodded grimly. "She made me write lines with it. 'I will not tell lies.' For hours on end." He tilted his right hand to show its back, where the words _I will not tell lies_ were still visible, the white scar now quite visible against the light tan of the rest of the hand. The three Bones women leaned forward to look. Amelia immediately leaned back, her face stern, while Brigitte took Harry's hand in hers to look more closely and Susan pulled Harry into another hug.

"I see," said Amelia, her face closed.

"I think we could get that all fixed up at St. Mungo's, dear," said Brigitte after a moment. Susan said nothing, but continued to hold Harry to her, moving her arms from his shoulders to his waist.

After a long moment, Amelia cleared her throat. "Well, I was hoping to finish on a positive note, but I can see events have conspired against me. Nevertheless..." She stood. She spoke in ringing tones. "Harry Potter, for reason of continuing clear and present danger against your person represented by the forces of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, you are hereby granted a provisional use of magic licence. From this day forth, the Decree of Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery will no longer apply to you. You may use magic restricted only by those regulations that control the actions of adult wizards." She pulled from the sleeve of her robes a scroll which she handed over to Harry. Harry, trapped within Susan's embrace, reached up to take the scroll.

"I... thank you, Minister. I promise I'll not abuse your trust."

Amelia smiled, her eyes twinkling. "I'm sure you won't, Harry. I'm sure you won't."


End file.
